


I'll Choke You to Death With Your Own Jesus Pieces

by Mystery_Lady



Category: Wild Kratts
Genre: Alternative Universe - Superpowers, Attempted Murder, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Chris Is Out For Blood, Dark Chris, Death Threats, Dismemberment, Fluff In The End, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, For Spooky Month, Healing, Hydrokinetic Martin, In One Scene To Be Honest, Krattcest - Freeform, M/M, Omnikinetic Chris, Original Character Death(s), Poachers, Protective Chris, Protective Martin, Scary and Powerful Chris, Sexual Harassment, hydrokinesis, omnikinesis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 22:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21260768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystery_Lady/pseuds/Mystery_Lady
Summary: Chris felt time become still, his world turning mute as the sound of his heartbeat begins to overtake his senses. He could hardly breathe as he stares at the airborne figure that was thrown backward; one minute standing beside Martin and the next landing gracelessly on top of the windshield of one of the jeeps that belong to the poachers. Chris vaguely hears the sound of glass cracking.But that wasn’t enough.----How long can you continue to taunt a cornered animal until they attack?





	I'll Choke You to Death With Your Own Jesus Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> I have pretty much been working on this one-shot for the past two months and I finally finished it and decided to post it today; on Halloween. 
> 
> It's my first time writing about a character with Omnikinesis (or Ultimate Telekinesis) and Hydrokinesis and while I'm nervous about how it turned out, I have to admit, I'm happy with the way it came out. I hope you guys enjoy it too. 
> 
> This time, I decided to write Dark!Chris. I hope you like him. 😊

They didn’t know how it happened.

They didn’t know how it came to this…

It was poachers this time; haughty, dangerous, and cruel men. Beasts in human skin…

One of their Wild Kratt’s kids had warned them that she had seen unkind looking men skulking through the tall, dry grass of the savanna with deadly weapons in their hands, evident fear in her eyes.

Chris and Martin had hesitated for a moment when they had heard that; an inkling of trepidation paralyzing them before Chris straightened up and reminded Martin that they _had_ to do it, they couldn’t sit back and do nothing. And while Martin wasn’t too keen in dealing with people that weren’t their usual enemies, he had agreed. They had to protect the animals from people who were more than willing to harm them for superficial reasons.

So they had suited up with their vests, gloves, creaturepods, and their creature power disks before heading out.

Things were going just fine for a while; they hadn’t stumbled across the poachers and they were able to free some of the animals that were in cages. The problem they had was with the sedated elephant that was tied down with plasma rope.

The moment trouble started was when Martin saw Chris tense up from the corner of his eye. When he had turned to look, he saw a pistol gun pressed against the back of Chris’s head. Alarmed, he put his hands up, never taking his eyes away from Chris’s face.

After that, everything went downhill…

_Jimmy still wasn’t sure how he and the girls got captured and placed together with Chris and Martin but there he was; scared out of his mind and trying to keep himself from passing out!_

_There were all forced to kneel on the hot ground of the savanna, the sun beaming down uncaringly; sweat running down his forehead as he looked at the girls from the corner of his eye. _

_The two of them were scowling, sometimes trying to shove away the hands that held them down as Martin and Chris glared at the poachers that surrounded them. _

_The atmosphere was stiff and the words were patronizing, the poachers jeering at them with vicious glee as a tall, burly figure—which Jimmy guess was the head honcho—circled them, a machete in his hand as he mentioned his name, Griffin, and explained what exactly he was going to do the unfortunate elephant that remained in deep sleep. To say the least, Jimmy had been trying to keep the contents in his stomach from expelling out._

_He had gotten indignant for the girls when one of the poachers, a brawny man with thick black hair that called himself Connor, started to harass the girls; calling them names he wouldn’t repeat, yanking on Aviva’s hair roughly just so that he could sniff her neck, then threatening and calling Koki a racial slur when she got upset and tried to help Aviva. _

_Martin attempted to calm Connor down—trying to get him to remove his sniper rifle away from Koki’s temple—through clenched teeth, his body tensed and ready to pounce on any given moment. _

_He had tried to help, he did! But he was as threatening as a stomping bunny! And the slap he had received from different poacher was also another reason for him to stay compliant. _

_And Chris…Well, Chris threw out some incredibly impressive insults and curses that Jimmy never thought he would hear from his young friend. And while he does admire Chris’s bravery and witty retorts, he also knew that his temper was going to be his downfall._

_Martin had tried to keep Chris alleviated, his eyes never leaving the poachers as Connor kept snarking back at Chris; the dark-haired monster had a gleam in his eyes that made Jimmy squirm uncomfortably as he continued to stare at Chris. _

_Suddenly, Connor shoved Aviva away, which made her fall against Koki. Jimmy thinks she didn’t mind, heck, she didn’t even straighten herself. And as he listened closely, he heard soft little noises that suspiciously sounded like whimpers. The sounds hurt him more than he could say and from Koki’s expression, the feeling was mutual as she tried her best to give her comfort. _

_A sharp gasp from Chris had made him peered over to him, shocked to see that Connor was now gripping Chris’s chin tightly, pulling him unbearably close. And from the expression on Chris’s face, he was not happy with how close he was to the other man._

_“Well, now that I look at you closely, you’re not a bad looking bloke.” He turned Chris’s face left and right condescendingly, chuckling at Chris’s snarl, “You sure do have full, fuckable lips than the worthless sluts behind me. Maybe you should be my new fuck toy…”_

_When he spoke those words, everyone froze; he even stopped breathing for a moment. Then less than a second, his friends snapped out of it and the mayhem began._

_Chris had a look of horror and disgust as he tried to pull away as Martin yelled at the other man to release Chris. Well, more like he growled out “let go of **my** brother!”—he always knew that Martin was oddly possessive of his brother; the girls never believed him—in a menacing tone as Koki and Aviva started to order Connor to leave Chris alone. And he, himself, he felt a mix of anger and protectiveness as he protested and glowered at the man that wouldn’t release Chris. _

_The girls hollered loudly when Connor forcibly kissed Chris, his hands running down Chris’s back and lewdly squeezing his ass, unconcerned at the way Chris struggled as the men around them leered and catcalled. Repulsed, Jimmy turned away from the scene. But then he froze when he caught the look that Martin was throwing at Connor. _

_Martin… Martin had this chilling look that made his insides shrivel up and made him break into a cold sweat. And the glance wasn’t even directed at him!_

_That glare was the only warning he saw before Martin stood up suddenly, shocking the poacher behind him, as he threw himself against Connor. Connor, surprised, released Chris as he fell with Martin landing on top of him. But Martin didn’t stop there._

_Since his hands were bound behind him—why did Martin’s right hand look odd; almost like the bones were crooked?—Martin opened his mouth and bit down hard on the poacher’s arm, much to everyone’s amazement. Connor released a howl of startling pain that disturbingly blended well with Martin’s savaged growls as he shook his head like raging pit-bull._

_Once the shock went away, Connor glared at Martin and raised his other arm, punching Martin on the face, over and over again. But no matter how hard he punched, Martin refused to let go, glaring defiantly at the poacher. Even when the one in front of him aimed up his shotgun to the air and fired a warning shot—which made him and the girls scream and jump—Martin was unwilling to release Connor’s arm. _

_When one of the poachers finally decided to step in, he pulled Martin away. Or at least he attempted to; Martin still didn’t let go. With one last rough tug, they were successful in pulling Martin away, Connor letting out another yowl as his blood-spattered all over Martin’s face._

_Jimmy had started to gag—he vaguely heard Aviva’s astonished gasp and Koki’s sharp exclamation of disgust—when he realized that the red thing in between Martin’s teeth was a piece of flesh from Connor’s arm. _

_Once away from Connor, Martin turned his head aside and spit the small bit of muscle out his mouth placidly, his lips and teeth now stained red. Martin licks his teeth and then his lips before also spitting the blood away. He did all that with a serene expression, hardly bothered by the poachers surrounded him, their firearms pointing at him cautiously. _

_The icy look in Martin’s eyes only disappeared when Chris called out in a soft and worried voice, “Martin?” _

_The darkness in those blue eyes diminished a little, his face going back to the same gentleness that Jimmy was used to as he shot Chris a small, reassuring smile. The left side of his face had already started to look bruised up and in the left corner of his lips, there was a small cut. _

_Chris’s body leaned slightly forward, a look of desperation on his face and Jimmy knew that Chris wished he was free. Free and close to his brother, to be able to touch him._

_Griffin, apparently getting tired of them, ordered his men to hold Martin down. Walking over to Martin’s left side, he stood beside him. When Griffin tightened his hold on his weapon, Jimmy realizes with horror what the commander was planning._

** _He was going to behead Martin!_ **

_Jimmy didn’t register that he had moved until he was shoved down again on his knees roughly, the pain grounding him as he heard the scuffles and cries of the girls. _

_Hearing Connor laughing, Jimmy glimpsed over to see that Connor had Chris on upon his feet, his uninjured arm wrapped around Chris’s neck, forcing him to stare as Griffin spoke brief yet cold words to Martin as he began to raise his machete._

_“Give me his head when you cut it off boss! I want to use his mouth as an ashtray!” Connor requested maliciously. Chris visibly trembled as he fought against the hold._

_“No! Martin!” Chris cried desperately, eyes filling up tears. Jimmy could hardly look at him without feeling the urge to bursts into tears. Aviva and Koki had no problem in that department. He heard their frantic sobs. _

_But when he had looked at Martin, he had felt a tear slip down his face without permission._

_The blonde smiled at them; his smile small, sad and yet comforting. _

_Jimmy hated it… He hated how helpless he had felt and how couldn’t do anything to save his friend. _

** _He hated it!_ **

_Jimmy gazed away, unwilling to see the monsters that were going to take the life of his friend; refusing to see the fate of his friend and the vile smiles on the faces of the savages that circled them._

_Then Chris released a scream. A scream that was filled with pure rage and anguish, as tears cascaded down his cheeks._

_And this is where everything went to hell in a hand-basket._

_Jimmy never expected the outcome…_

Everything becomes a blur for Chris.

He just started…screaming. His body reacting quickly than his own brain did, his mind becoming unexpectedly blank as he stares at his brother; his vision blurry as he struggles like a trapped animal.

His brother… His brother smiled at him as though there was nothing wrong, as though he was willing to die. Die for _them_. Die for **him**!

Martin… Why him? Why him! Stay away from him!

Chris felt a distracting pressure inside his head, a kind of pain that was almost unfamiliar—he hasn’t felt this type of affliction since he was a child—as his voice breaks and he’s left unable to scream, his throat beginning to ache as he glares at the weapon in the man’s hand, his eyes burning as he channels his energy into the weapon; swaying the weapon to his will as Griffin swung down his blade.

The machete froze an inch away from Martin’s neck.

“What the—”

_Stay away!_ His mind echoed in a voice he didn’t recognize, his attention solely on the man before him, an overwhelming sense of loathing filling him as he glares him.

Then Griffin was sent flying.

Chris felt time become still, his world turning mute as the sound of his heartbeat begins to overtake his senses. He could hardly breathe as he stares at the airborne figure that was thrown backward; one minute standing beside Martin and the next landing gracelessly on top of the windshield of one of the jeeps that belong to the poachers. Chris vaguely hears the sound of glass cracking.

But that wasn’t enough.

Snarling, Chris narrows his eyes as he reaches out—he could feel the weight of man’s comatose body in his mind—concentrating his grip Griffin’s torso as he tugs. Just as he pulled his body upright, he quickly slams it down **hard**. He repeats the action and rams his body down again and again!

Chris feels like a puppeteer, heaving and slamming Griffin’s body with an ease that was becoming well-known, his brain reminding him just how _easy_ this used to be for him. How this power was and still **is** a part of him…

Chris felt more than heard the moment Griffin’s chest cavity and sternum give away, the sound of crackling growing loud as fractures appear and spread across the windshield like a spider’s web. When Chris slams his body down for the last time, the windshield shatters with a deafening bang; the glass puncturing the now lifeless body. 

Blinking wearily, Chris lets out a shaky breath as he releases the hold he had on the limp body.

He ignores the way he feels as though his head was splinting into two as he peers at the scene in front of him; one dead man and his group of “merry” men running around like headless chicken as they try to understand what had happened, pointing their weapons all over the place.

Chris hastily turns his eyes to his brother, studying the bloody, bruised but still <strike>unfairly</strike> handsome face. Martin was peering at the scene before them with widened eyes, his face slightly pale. Chris felt that he could breathe a bit easier now that the monster that tried to rip his brother away from was no longer a threat <strike>after all, a corpse can no longer cause mayhem</strike>.

Chris then gazes at his friends wearily, observing them as Koki and Aviva stare with mouth agape at the ghastly sight as Jimmy lets out a strangled whimper before promptly passing out. It was for the best in his opinion.

The sound of uneven breathing next to his ear made him remember his predicament.

Visualizing the limb around his neck releasing him, Chris moves away the moment Connor’s arm loosens its hold on him. Not paying attention to Connor’s confused sputtering; Chris peers up at him, the rhythm of his heartbeat still blaring into his ears.

He glances down at Connor’s hand, the one gripping the rifle, Chris envisions Connor’s other hand gripping the weapon, encouraging the hand to position the muzzle against the underside of his chin. Ignoring Connor’s baffled and frightened shouts and the sharp exclamations from his poaching buddies, he enforces his finger to press lightly against the trigger.

Chris had forgotten how powerful it felt to have the ability to move items, to manipulate objects—utensils, weapons, _people_—with his mind; he didn’t even need to use his hands, his eyes would do… 

As Chris stares at Connor, he can admit to himself that he feels a sense of grim satisfaction at seeing Connor’s face turn into a shade of pasty white, horror glimmering in his eyes as it dawns on him that he no longer can control his own body. That he, Chris himself, is now influencing his body without lifting a finger.

He can suffocate him by crushing his neck. He can rip off his limbs and leave him to bleed to death. He can crumble every bone in his body and squeeze his useless body into a ball. He can even make his body **explode** if he **_fucking wanted to_**!

He can **_tear_** the **_ground_** **apart **and **throw** him inside the ravine, let him fall into the abyss of the earth or simply flatten him as he descended down the earth as he forcibly **_closes_** the chasm if he damn well desires too!

But he won’t.

He already has something planned for the bastard...

With that, Chris looks at Connor straight into his eyes, watching him detachedly as he makes Connor press down on the trigger. Chris doesn’t bat an eye as Connor’s face was eradicated in the blast; blood, muscles, and the skin tissue of his chest, neck, chin, and throat bursting everywhere and at anyone close enough to him.

Which meant that not only did some of Connor’s friends who stayed near him received blood and pieces of flesh from him but so did Aviva—who shrieked in disgust and terror, Koki who had emptied her stomach on the ground when she got smacked with a piece of Connor’s tongue, and onto the passed out Jimmy.

He himself, on the other hand, didn’t flinch when he was splattered with pieces of bones and brain matter, the dried tear streaks and the blood on his face resembling a macabre foundation.

Head pounding, he turns to stare at the remaining poachers with lackadaisical eyes, the rope that was wrapped around his hands unraveling, bringing his hands to his side once they were free.

Glancing aside, Chris narrows his eyes towards the auburn-haired poacher that stood next to Aviva. Chris jerks his head roughly to the side and the man’s neck twists without warning; the head doing a one-eighty before the body drops to the ground.

Nodding to himself, Chris turns his eyes to the rest. Only five more men remained…

Fingers twitching, Chris raises a hand and with his forefinger and middle finger, he makes a beckoning motion.

The men peers at Chris in confusion until a gurgling, choking noise made them peek nervously to their right side. A blonde poacher gaze down, face white as blood slithers down his chin; protruding from his stomach was a machete, a very familiar machete…

The flaxen-haired male lets out a choked whimper, an unmistakable _squish_ sounds resounding loudly as the machete did rough twists left and right before finally exiting his body by going forward. A gaping hole was left behind and the unfortunate’s man intestines spilling out into the ground.

This time, it was Aviva that vomited.

Any other time, Chris would have thought he was going too far—since he already gave Connor a rather bloody death—but he hasn’t forgotten that the blonde poacher had stepped on and ruthlessly broken Martin’s hand, laughing maniacally at Martin’s pain before spitting into his face.

He did warn him that he was going to pay for that.

He warned them all…

Feeling something warm oozing down from his nose, Chris offhandedly wipes it away, ignoring the hint of red that highlighted sharply on his black glove.

The sound of a gunshot firing made him look to the side stiffly.

“Don’t take another step freak!” one says <strike>foolishly</strike> bravely, pointing his handgun at him.

Nose wrinkling in distaste, Chris raises one of his hands before throwing his hand out in a backhand motion; the simple action sending the man that threatened him soaring backward. Chris didn’t have to check to know that he was dead. Colliding headfirst at top speed against one of the acacia trees would naturally cause instant death.

Chris stares at the three remaining men with disdain.

When one of them dared to aim his weapon at him—even after seeing what he did to his buddy—made Chris scowl, his mind conjuring the image of a spinal column. He can picture the vertebrate vividly in his mind, strong and flexible and extraordinary. And just as he could imagine it in his brain, so did he visualize an intense heat **_liquefying_** the spinal cord.

A high-pitched scream slips out of the man pointing his rifle at him, eyes widening drastically as he drops his weapon and abruptly falls to the ground, thrashing erratically as he continues to shriek. 

Disregarding the screaming individual on the ground, Chris peers over to the two men who were now huddling together, holding on their rifles tightly with apparent fear on their faces.

Raising his left hand, Chris brings his hand close to his right arm, hand straight and palm facing down before swiping his hand horizontally; making an unmistakable cutting motion. For a few seconds, nothing happened.

But then the expression on the men’s face changed from terror to frozen shock, looking down and quickly glancing up.

One second, they were upright. The next second, a wet and disgusting sound was heard as the upper body of the poachers slid to the their sides, falling to the ground as their lower part remained standing for a moment before falling to the ground as well; the soil slick and dirtied with the poachers’ blood and innards.

Taking a trembling breath, Chris closes his eyes briefly, feeling dizzy for a moment before forcing his eyes open. Gulping, ignoring the taste of iron sliding down his throat, Chris turns to Martin.

Making a gentle and somewhat lazy hand motion, Chris sees the rope disentangle from Martin’s wrists as he then glances towards his friends, repeating the motion. When Jimmy, Koki, and Aviva’s hands were free from their restraints, Chris does it one last time towards the ropes that had the still unconscious elephant pinned to the ground. Once that was over, he lets his hand fall to his side limply.

Sniffing wetly, Chris wipes his nose uncaringly with his glove.

He was bleeding again…

“Chris…”

Chris peers over to his brother.

“What…I…” Martin floundered, seemingly lost for words, “Why did you—”

“Save it,” Chris interrupts tiredly, taking slow steps towards his brother, “If the situation was reversed, you would have done the same thing or even worse.” Chris didn’t stop walking until he was right in front of Martin.

Chris notices with a growing alarm that he was having trouble breathing…

He focuses back on Martin when he feels his brother press his forehead against his, their noses almost touching as he glances back into Martin’s distracting blue eyes; trying to match up to his breathing with his.

Keyword: Trying.

Nostrils clogged up and the overwhelming taste of blood in his mouth, Chris pants desperately.

He was losing focus…

Martin knew something was wrong when Chris reaches out towards him with trembling hands, gripping his biceps tightly for a second before the hold loosened.

Martin only had a second to grab him as Chris’s eyes roll to the back of his head and he slumps backward. Holding him protectively, he gently lowers him down to the ground, cushioning his head with his hand as he examines him anxiously.

Taking off his gloves, Martin checks him over worriedly, his hands carefully running over his body. A moment later, he pauses before raising one of his hands; his right hand was slicked with red fluid.

Chris was bleeding? Chris was bleeding! But how—

Martin then remembered. The poacher who pointed and fired the warning shot towards Chris…

He actually shot him. The damned bastard shot his brother!

Growling lowly, Martin looks around frantically. Spotting Koki and Aviva, both women white as a ghost as they tried to wake up Jimmy, Martin calls out to them.

“Koki! Aviva! I need help! Help me!”

Snapping their attention to him, Koki urged Aviva forward, remaining next to Jimmy. Aviva gives a short nod and runs towards him.

“What do you need MK?”

“Go to one of the jeeps; try to find me a bottle of water or a canteen. I need water! Hurry!”

A look of confusion and exasperation spread across Aviva’s face, “Water? Martin, Chris needs medical attention—”

“**Aviva**!” Martin snarls, “Just for once, _listen_ to **_me_** and do as I **fucking** **say**!” Martin doesn’t like talking to his friends this way. In fact, he knows, later on, he would regret it.

But this is Chris. He never plays with Chris’s life.

Chris will always be his first priority…

Thankfully, Aviva understood and nods mutely, running towards the jeeps, not so subtly ignoring the one with the impaled body.

As Aviva checked out the vehicles, Martin uses his creaturepod to run a scan at Chris’s bleeding side, cursing under his breath when he sees that the bullet was still lodged inside of him. Hearing low noises a few feet away from him, Martin looks to see Jimmy, awaken and trembling with a slight sheen of green on his face and Koki, who look equally sick and disturbed. 

Turning his attention back to his brother, Martin raises his limp body a bit, struggling a bit to hold him up and remove his vest at the same time. Groaning in frustration, he almost jumps when two slim but sturdy hands hold up Chris.

Looking up, he sees a grim-faced but resolute Koki as Jimmy walks towards them, eyes shifting all over the place like a startled deer.

Thanking her silently, Martin takes off the vest, placing it aside before removing his green shirt, leaving Chris’s upper body bare.

“Turn him on to his side; I need to have a good view of his side.” Martin orders stiffly.

Koki does as she was told, Jimmy eying them with worry as he pets Chris’s hair demurely. Chris couldn’t feel a thing but Martin knew that if he were awake, he would have appreciated the gesture.

“I found water bottles!” Aviva declares triumphantly, stopping in front of them and passing him the water bottles.

“Great work Aviva!” Martin praises as he puts three of the water bottles down, keeping the fourth one in his hand. Opening the bottle, Martin breathes in sharply, closing his eyes briefly.

He hasn’t done this in a while…

He opens his eyes and looks at his pallid and vulnerable brother; Chris’s breathing was labored and he had a pained expression on his face. Even in his unconscious state, Chris wasn’t spared by the agony his body was going through.

He hasn’t done this in a while. But that wasn’t going to stop him from helping Chris!

Eyes glinting with determination, Martin sets the open water bottle down and opens a second one, placing it next to the other one.

Eyeing the water inside the bottle, Martin raises his hands and keeps it an inch or two away from the mouth of the bottle, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

For two minutes or so, nothing happened. But Martin wasn’t discouraged. He breathes out steadily, hands still outstretched as he glares at the water.

_Come on, come on, come on... You’re a part of me and I’m a part of you._

Martin grits his teeth.

_Please don’t fail me! Please don’t ignore me! **Move** with _me_, become _me_! You are me and I am you! **Move with me**!_

The water vibrated, trembling softly for a moment before thrashing. The liquid sloshed and few droplets of water spilled.

It became still for a solid beat.

Then Martin’s hands were encased with lukewarm, clean water; the water feeling soothing and welcoming in his hands.

A bubble of laughter escaped his lips, a tinged of hysteria in it as he ignores his friends’ stupefied expressions. Forcing down his frenzied chuckles, Martin licks his lips and peers down at his brother.

Eying his left hand, Martin enforces the water to move from his left hand to his right; the water covering his hand like a glove as he reaches out the same hand towards Chris’s wounded side.

“Martin, what—”

“Shh…I can’t have any distractions. Please try to stay quiet, for both Chris and mine sake. I can’t lose focus on this.”

Placing his hand on Chris’ wound, Martin wills the water to move inside his brother’s body, never taking his eyes away from his hand as he could _feel_ the water rush through inside Chris’s body as he applies a bit of pressure to the injury.

Yes… It’s been a long while now but he can _see_.

Biting his bottom lip, Martin commands the fluid to move to an inch to the side, ignoring how the lead residue made him feel _dirty_, how he can feel the damages that the single bullet left inside Chris’s body. All he concentrated was how close he was getting to the intrusion. He was so close—

He got it!

Grinning widely, Martin slowly raises his hand, pulling the water and the bullet out of Chris’s side, looking down with relief when the bullet lands on the ground with a muted flop.

With that out of the way, now came the hard part…

Eying his hand, Martin compels the liquid from his right hand to move to his left, now both of his hands enclosed with water as he moves them once again to Chris’s side. As he senses the water entering Chris’s body again, Martin sighs softly as he focuses on his task.

Martin can perceive it. He can see how the water began to mend the broken tissues of muscles, piece together small fragments of bones back into place, heal the injured spleen and soothed the areas that were inflamed. Hell, he could even see how the lead that had remained inside his brother’s body became purified by the water!

Not taking any chances though, Martin pulls back his hands a bit, enforcing a bit of blood and water to expel out of Chris.

“Aviva, can you check if there’s any lead residue or any other internal damage on Chris?” While Martin instinctively knew that he had healed all of Chris’s internal inflictions, he couldn’t help but double-check.

He needed to hear with his own ears a confirmation that Chris was alright. That he hasn’t fucked up in healing him after being out of commission for the past few years. 

Broken out of her stupor, Aviva stumbles for a moment—her creaturepod almost falling out of her hand—she quickly uses her small invention, scanning her friend’s body.

Gazing at the creaturepod with intense focus, Aviva studied the results for a minute before glancing back at him, “Everything is all clear Martin. Besides the open bullet wound on his side, Chris is out of danger and is pretty stable.”

Reassured, Martin moves one hand to Chris’s side and the other one to his brother’s forehead. Breathing out, Martin envisions the injury stitching itself up, repairing the damaged tissues inside, outside, and around the wound, his other hand concentrating on soothing and relieving the pounding headache that he knows was tormenting Chris as well.

When he was sure that his brother’s inflictions were taken care of, he pulls his hands away carefully, letting the liquid slip through his fingers and into the ground.

Letting one of his hands go limp on his side, Martin gently pushes Chris until he was lying on his back, tenderly wiping away the dried blood from beneath Chris’s nose. 

“We’re going to check if the elephant is okay. We’ll be right back.” Koki points half-heartedly towards the elephant as she stands up and walks off before anyone can say anything. Jimmy looks at Koki and then at Martin then back at Koki again. A moment later, he smiles sheepishly and follows quickly after her.

“Hey, I’m going to leave you here alone with your brother. I’m going to scan the elephant and make sure that the poachers—” Aviva cuts herself off, a nauseated expression on her face for a brief moment before shaking her head, “Well, I’m just want to make sure he’s alright and healthy.” Aviva says with a smile that reminded Martin of a grimace as she dusts herself off and heads towards Jimmy and Koki.

Sighing, Martin looks back at Chris, gazing at the now peaceful face as he carefully picks him up a bit to pull him closer and set his head down at his lap, running his fingers through his brown locks.

He usually wouldn’t be this openly affectionate—high fives, shoulder grabbing, and leaning against each other was what they normally do in front of their friends and other people—but at this very moment, he couldn’t give a fuck. In fact, he wanted to hold Chris in his arms, press Chris close to him and listen to the gentle sounds of his breathing, feel the warmth from his body and the comforting weight of his brother over him; reaffirm a stubborn part of him that continued to doubt that Chris was alright. That he was _alive_.

Martin trails his thumb against Chris’s cheek, specifically his cheekbone, stroking the surprisingly soft skin. But then again, he shouldn’t be shocked. Chris always takes good care of his body and the little cheeky brat would constantly remind him to do the same.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, caressing Chris’s face and their friends keeping their distance from them as they waited for the now wide awake elephant to stand up and take off when he heard a barely audible whimper. Gazing down sharply, he sees that Chris’s face was pinched, his lips pressed into a thin line as his body made a sudden jerky movement.

Concerned, Martin gives Chris’s shoulder a light shake.

Chris unexpectedly sits up; his brown eyes wide as he releases a panicked cry.

“Chris!”

Chris didn’t seem to hear or see him, “Brother! Brother!”

Instinctively, Martin cradles Chris’s face, his touch gentle but firm as he makes Chris look at him, his eyes meeting his brother’s petrified ones.

“Shh…I’m here.”

Chris lets out a whine of disbelief.

“I’m here,” Martin repeats assertively, never breaking eye contact with Chris as he inhales and exhales slowly, hoping that Chris would follow his lead.

Chris’s breathing was still a bit frenzied for a brief moment before he tried to follow suit, pressing his face close to his until their noses and foreheads were pressed against each other, Chris’s hands reaching out and clutching his wrists tightly. Martin hardly flinched at the painful grip.

For a minute, both he and Chris shared the same breath, eyes never straying away from each other.

Another minute later, Chris closes his eyes, letting out a shuddery breath before pulling back a bit and opening them again, “Martin?”

A smile spread across his weary face, “Hey Chris.”

“You’re really here? You’re not—”

“I'm real Chris, I’m right here. I’m okay.” Martin grabs one of Chris’s wrists, placing his palm against his chest, letting Chris feel the steady thuds of his beating heart, “See? I’m okay. You saved us. **You **_saved _**me**.”

Chris peers at him quietly, seemingly dumbstruck before he chuckles softly, the normally bright laugh sounding pained and watery as he begins to back away from him.

But Martin refuses to let him retreat. Giving a quick glance to his friends and seeing them still distracted, he pulls Chris back towards him and kisses him, his hands still cradling his face gently.

For a beat, Chris remains unresponsive but then, as though a switch has been turned on, Chris kisses him back with unexpected force, his hands grabbing his shoulders in a strong grip as he presses himself completely against him. If Martin knew any better, he would have believed that Chris was trying to merge their upper bodies together; Chris letting out tiny and quiet, desperate noises that weren’t successfully muffled by their lips.

Martin reluctantly pulls away, not wanting to get carried away when they have a live audience a few feet away from them; Martin shushes Chris kindly when he releases a low whine of disappointment.

“Later,” he reassures him, his lips quirking up into a minuscule smile that ended up vanishing quickly as he scowls at his brother, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

Chris gives him a bemused smile, “I make no promises.”

Snorting, Martin shakes his head before picking up Chris’s discarded shirt and handing it back to him, “Here, put this back on. We have _a lot_ of explaining to do the gang.”

With a grimace, Chris groans lowly and puts on his shirt. Seeing his vest as well, Chris grabs it and holding it in his hands instead of putting it on; Martin suspects that despite being completely healed, Chris is still feeling uncomfortable or sensitive.

Seeing that Chris was ready, Martin stands up and dusts himself, offering his hand to Chris when he was done. Once Chris was on his feet, Martin wraps an arm around his waist, pulling him close as he guides him towards their friends.

“Martin, what are you doing? I’m okay, I can walk without support. I can even levitate and fly off if I wanted to.” Despite his words though, Chris remains tucked by his side.

“I believe you,” Martin soothes with a smile, “Just humor me for a bit.”

Chris shakes his head but doesn’t argue, leaning fully against his brother.

Squeezing Chris’s side gently, Martin looks onward, gazing at their friends’ curious and wary expressions.

He really wasn’t looking forward to the upcoming conversation…

**Author's Note:**

> I'm unsure whether to start a series with these two and explore more about their past with their powers. But other than that, I'm pretty satisfied with keeping this a one-shot.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this. Kudos and Comments are always appreciated. ^_^


End file.
